


Joint To A Crackhouse

by MintSauce



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Episode Re-Write, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-10
Updated: 2013-03-10
Packaged: 2017-12-04 21:25:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/715259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MintSauce/pseuds/MintSauce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imagine what would happen if when Lip and Ian went to plant the gun at the Milkovich house, Mickey was home from Juvie. Re-write One-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Joint To A Crackhouse

"It's like bringing a joint to a crack house," Lip muttered under his breath, shimmying the gun out of the cloth they'd wrapped it up in and onto the table, putting it in amongst the others.

Ian shifted about nervously, chewing his bottom lip. He hadn't been in the Milkovich house for a while and he certainly hadn't been in while Terry had a hit out on him. And even before that, it had been a while, because Mickey was back and Ian wasn't quite sure how the fuck he was supposed to handle that situation. So, he just avoided it.

They both tensed when they heard the front door opening and there was this weird, awkward moment when they all just sort of froze, looking at each other and Terry and wondering what the fuck they were supposed to do. Honestly, the only thoughts running through Ian's head right at that moment were along the lines of:  _oh shit, I'm dead_.

"What the fuck?" Terry asked, his gaze zeroing in on Ian and the redhead honestly thought he was about to throw up. A muscle under his eye twitched, but still none of them moved. Ian was too scared to, like a deer caught in headlights he thought maybe if he didn't move then time would just freeze.

In hindsight he supposed they should have just gone for the guns since, hell they were closer. But no, Lip moved, climbing over the back of the sofa and saying, "Go," so seriously that Ian didn't have a choice but to move. It reminded him a lot of the time Eddie had caught Karen sucking Ian off under the table. And just like then, Lip went straight for the window, diving out of it and seeming to forget Ian for a minute, but Ian knew that if he didn't follow, Lip would be right back in the house again.

It was all sort of frantic after that, will Ian bolting through the Milkovich house and being met with several dead ends and then he was rammed up against a wall, a table trapping him there and Terry Milkovich on the other side pointing a gun at his face.

Ian shouldn't have been panicked, because hell, he was planning on going off and getting shot for a fucking living, but still the deer in headlights look appeared again and he just froze. Because really, what could he do. Anybody would freeze when someone had a gun pointed directly at their face by a man who everyone knew would pull the trigger.

"I'm going to fucking waste you're Peter Pan ass," Terry growled out and there was a click and Ian flinched, but it wasn't Terry who'd pulled the trigger. Terry hadn't done anything other than raise the gun a little bit higher.

"Get the fuck away from him."

Ian could safely say he had never been more pleased to see Mickey in his entire life. He was standing there, kind of dirty, in nothing but his boxers. He had a red mark on his cheek where he'd obviously been sleeping on his hand and his hair was mussed up. He didn't look sleepy though, he looked wide awake as he pointed a gun at his dad's head. The look in his eyes could only be described as calculated.

It was fucking hot.

"The fuck you doing?" Terry growled at his son, his eyes flicking over towards his youngest boy as Mickey advanced a little closer, "This guy knocked up Mandy and the little shit broke in."

Mickey didn't look at Ian, even though the redhead head a feeling that he wanted to. The ex-con just snorted, the muscles in his arms twitching as he raised the gun up a little bit, getting a better aim. Ian didn't doubt in the slightest that Mickey knew how to fire a gun.

"Yeah, not fucking likely," Mickey replied, sounding weirdly calm in this situation. Ian thought it was probably the adrenaline. Either way, he knew he'd never seen Mickey so focussed before on anything. He was vaguely aware of more people running into the cramped kitchen, but he couldn't take his eyes off of Mickey. "There's no way he's the father, so go find some other fucker to shoot."

Mickey's tongue darted out to press into the corner of his mouth and Ian couldn't help but smile a little, which was something Terry thankfully didn't notice.

"You calling your sister a fucking whore?" he barked out, sounding more than a little defensive over his only daughter, "Sleeping with a guy who isn't her boyfriend, of course it's fucking his!"

Mickey bared his teeth, but whatever he'd been about to say he didn't get the chance to, because Mandy spoke.

"I told you who's it is," Mandy said, sounding angry and resigned all at once, but Ian couldn't help but admire how strong she was in that moment. Ian's gaze flickered over to her and he'd never seen Mandy look so determined before ever. Which was saying something because the girl was pretty damn stubborn. "Let him go Dad, this is between us."

And something in Ian's head just seemed to click and he saw the expression in Mickey's eyes shift as the realisation hit him too. There was a shot as Mickey dived at his Dad, sending both of them crashing to the floor and Ian ducked, clapping his hands over his ears as the plaster behind him exploded from the shot.

"You sick, fucking bastard!" Mickey punched his Dad repeatedly, obviously not noticing that he still had a gun in one of his hands. He didn't even seem to care that his Dad's nose broke and his lip exploded and there was blood dripping onto the floor. Ian couldn't blame him, not at all, but still, he lurched around the table and grabbed Mickey around the middle, jerking them both backwards until they landed in a sprawled heap on the floor. Ian's back was against a cabinet, Mickey sitting between his legs, the ex-con's back pressed against his front.

Both of them were panting heavily and Mickey resisted for a minute, trying to get back towards Terry no doubt to get in another punch, but Ian locked his arms tight around the older boy and threw his legs over Mickey's thrashing ones, pinning them down.

"Mick, fucking stop," he growled in his ear, or maybe he shouted it, he didn't know, "I don't want you to go to Juvie again, just fucking stop."

And it took a minute, but Mickey eventually stopped thrashing and squirming and collapsed back against him, spent. Terry was pushing himself up onto his elbows, touching his broken face with one hand and wincing, but the Milkovichs were hard, he didn't even look like he was feeling the pain.

Ian had forgotten that Mickey still had a gun in his hand before the ex-con raised it, pointing it again at his dad. "Get. The. Fuck. Out," Mickey said, emphasising each word carefully and they all knew from the look on his face – not that Ian could see his face, but he knew Mickey well enough to know what it would look like – that he didn't just mean from the room.

To his credit, Terry didn't argue. Maybe because like a lot of people, he knew that Mickey didn't fuck around when it came to Mandy. He didn't like people messing with his baby sister, Ian had almost been on the other end of that wrath and he was glad he'd managed to avoid it.

Everything just seemed to freeze after Terry left the house, not even pausing once. It was like everyone was too afraid to say anything, like they thought that if they did something would shatter beyond repair. Although, honestly, Ian was too lost in the feeling of Mickey's bare flesh under his palms, but in his defence, it had been a while since he'd seen Mickey let alone been close enough to touch him.

"Gallagher, get the fuck off me," Mickey said, but his tone wasn't as harsh as it could have been. In fact it wasn't harsh at all.

Ian slid his hands out from around Mickey and lifted his legs up, wincing only slightly when Mickey pushed down hard on his thighs to push himself to his feet. He was surprised when Mickey turned and offered a hand to help him up. The ex-con dropped his hand quickly, like he was burnt and tossed the gun on the table.

"We'll fucking sort this," he said to Mandy, his voice full of promise and a love that was never expressed, but had always been so obviously there. He stared at his sister and met her eyes and Mandy looked like she was about to break down and cry, except she was a Milkovich and they didn't do that.

She just bit her lip and scowled.

"You got six hundred dollars lying around?" she asked, trying to make it sound flippant and light, but she just sounded stressed out and afraid.

"We'll raise it," Ian said before he was even aware he was speaking and everyone whipped around to stare at him, all of their faces holding pretty much the same expression. "The money, not the baby," he said, backtracking and the tension in the room seemed to fade away.

Mandy smiled at him and Ian's heart swelled in his chest because it was a real smile. She took a small step towards him, hesitant. "You'd do that for me?" she asked in a quiet voice and he hated how insecure she sounded.

"Course," he replied, smiling, "You're my girlfriend." He reached out and touched a hand to her hip lightly, not quite sure when he'd put his hand in his pocket. Mandy seemed to crumple as she reached for him, her forehead pressing against his and her hands holding his face gently before her arms wound around his neck. He hugged her back tightly, his eyes shut and his face pressed into her hair.

She smelt just like she always had and he didn't know when the hell that scent had become comforting. Maybe it was because it reminded him of Mickey. He hated admitting that that was definitely the reason. Everything always seemed to boil back down to Mickey.

"If you want, we can leave," Mickey said and Ian opened his eyes at the bitter edge to Mickey's voice and when the ex-con saw that Ian was looking at him, he raised his eyebrows.

Ian snorted as Mandy pulled back and he ducked his head a little to ask Mandy in a quiet voice, "Can you just give me a minute alone with Mickey please?"

And she looked confused, but she nodded and motioned to Lip, both of the retreating into the living room.

"The fuck you want?" Mickey snapped at him, his guard back up now.

Ian blamed his sudden courage on the fact that he'd pretty much just had a near death experience and he couldn't say he'd enjoyed it all that much. "No need to get snappy," Ian said, rolling his eyes, "I just wanted to tell you something."

"What?" Mickey practically growled, tensing up and looking towards the door Mandy and Lip had just left through, but they couldn't see them. Ian stepped closed until his chest was brushing Mickey's crossed arms.

He leant closer, grinning like a complete idiot because he didn't miss the way Mickey shivered. "Seeing you with that gun was fucking hot," Ian said, knowing that how low his voice was did things to Mickey that the ex-con would never talk about, but were really quite obvious.

Mickey audibly gulped, but he tried to play it off as being completely cool with the situation. "Oh is that right?" he said, smirking and Ian laughed low in his throat as he grabbed the sides of the ex-con's head and kissed him hard.

Mickey grunted when their mouths crashed together and lashed out, but it wasn't to push Ian away, instead it was to jump back up onto the counter, locking his legs tight around the backs of Ian's thighs and gripping the sides of his neck hard as he kissed the redhead back. "Fuck off, it's been a while," Mickey muttered, answering an unspoken question, pulling back only barely so that their mouths were still touching and Ian could practically taste Mickey's words.

"Didn't say a word," Ian replied, using his grip on the ex-con's head to pull him back in, pushing his fingers deeper into his hair and he wasn't sure, but he thought it was Mickey who moaned. Although it could have been him.

Ian could feel Mickey's erection as he pressed closer, the bulge in his own pants aching. He reached a hand down between them and gripping Mickey's length through his boxers, squeezing and making the ex-con choke on his own oxygen. Mickey's fingers clawed at his chest through his shirt, finding his nipples and pinching, which made Ian bite down on Mickey's bottom lip at the same time as he squeezed Mickey's dick again.

The ex-con let out a breathless laugh into Ian's mouth and Ian found himself smiling, flicking his tongue over Mickey's bottom lip to smooth away the hurt he'd inflicted. Mickey caught his tongue and sucked it into his mouth again, making Ian moan.

"What the fuck?"

 _And there it was_ , the moment ruined.

Mandy and Lip were standing there in the doorway, both staring at them and even Lip who knew about Mickey looked beyond surprised to see them making out like the horny teenagers they were. Ian felt the ex-con freeze under his touch, but he didn't push Ian away, which was probably something. Unfortunately, he did stop sucking on his tongue, which in that situation should have been the least of Ian's concerns, but somehow was pretty high up on the list.

Mandy actually recovered pretty quickly, staring at them for another minute or so and then blinking. She snorted, the sound extra loud in the silence of the kitchen. "At least move to your fucking bedroom if you're gonna fuck," she muttered, rolling her eyes and looking completely unfazed as she walked back out of the kitchen.

When Mickey and Ian's eyes met, he knew he was grinning like a complete idiot, but for once Mickey didn't comment, he just shrugged and attacked Ian's mouth again


End file.
